


Impatient.

by terminallyconvoluted



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Sheriarty - Freeform, sheriarty fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terminallyconvoluted/pseuds/terminallyconvoluted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nothing is ever as good as the first. I originally hadn't intended on extending this any further, but here we are. Insecure, hallucinating James.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

James sat impatiently his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Under normal circumstances he paced, his mind finding a fluid motion with the repetitive step. But even that had no effect on his mind tonight. Hours had passed since he had contacted Sherlock. The detective had never kept him waiting no more than an hour, but tonight James watched the time slink by slowly as he waited. He found himself jittery as he sat, unable to concentrate on the simplest of things. His mind seemed to run in circles around Sherlock. James moved to grab his phone that sat idle on the table next to him, but stopped himself just as suddenly. Sending a message now would make him seem desperate for the other man's companionship. He brought his hand back to his lap, once again lacing it with the other. Every second that passed his mind seemed to pick up speed like a bike without brakes propelling itself down a hill. He was no longer able to stay still, the thoughts pushed him from the chair he had squirmed in. James resumed his pacing, quick steps against the wooden floor. The foot falls echoed though his mind, pulsating around the already murky thoughts. He tried to focus on something, anything other than Sherlock and his own echoing footsteps. He found his seat once more his fingers drumming against the leather of the chair. It took a moment before he noticed the long figure in the darkened doorway. Sherlock moved forward though James didn't. "James?" Sherlock dusted the snow from his dark curls as he spoke, a questioning tone in his deep voice. "A bit late, Mr. Holmes?" James tried his best to sound nonchalant, but even he could hear the agitation in his voice. In return Sherlock gave a smirk as he moved towards the fire place that crackled behind James. "Lestrade needed me for a small favor." James watched Sherlock cross the room, his eyes trailing down the man's dark figure as he passed. "Perhaps you prefer playing detective with, Lestrade. Do I bore you?" Something echoed through the room, his own voice mocking him from behind. "A bit insecure there, James? Tsk, tsk." A feeling of dread washed over him as he tried focusing on Sherlock, ignoring the hallucination. The detectives brow furrowed as he moved to remove the long blue scarf that wrapped around his neck. A smile touched his thin, pink lips. "Now, James, would I be here if that were the case?" Again, the voice echoed from somewhere behind him. "Go ahead, Jimmy. Answer him. Would he?" James tilted his head away, trying his hardest to tune the voice out. "No, no. I suppose you wouldn't be." Unbuttoning the long dark coat, Sherlock gave a simple nod. But his voice spoke for him, "Do you really believe him? He said it himself; He is just like you. Deceptive, dishonest, diseased." He could hear the amusement in the last word. James closed his eyes bring his hand up to clasp the bridge of his nose gently. His mind swirled out of control as he tried to maintain himself in from of Sherlock. " I like punctuality, Sherlock." Once again the voice answered, this time a whisper in his ear. "That's right, Jim Jam. You tell him." His eyes popped open finding himself looking up at Sherlock. "I'm here now, James."


	2. Impossible.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is ever as good as the first. I originally hadn't intended on extending this any further, but here we are. Insecure, hallucinating James.

"I'm here now, James." The words Sherlock spoke caught James off guard. The detective wasn't quite known for his sentimentality, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes more than he would ever care to. Somewhere, diluted amongst the cold hues of blue green, there sat a strange mix of worry and adoration. James tilted his head studying the man's eyes before turning himself away. "If I had wanted you here now I certainly would have specified." His tone was cruel, though he knew the hostility would scarcely touch Sherlock. As expected Sherlock's lips were just barely twisted into a knowing grin. That voice, James' own voice, taunted him; a low, mocking murmur just beside his ear, "He's laughing at us, James. We can't have that." James clenched his fist, his nails digging deep into the soft flesh oh his palms. "You're laughing at me, Sherlock." A small sound of disbelief escaped Sherlock's thin lips. "Yes, because I laugh so often." James turned suddenly his eyes narrowing on Sherlock's slender figure. "Do not patronize me, Sherlock. I'm not quite a dull as your precious doctor." James spat the words as if they held a filthy taste. Sherlock cut his eyes to glare at the criminal. "No. No, you certainly aren't."


End file.
